


by all but blood

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 2012 Avengers Team Dynamics, Abusive Relationships, Always a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Has A Heart, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, Happy Ending, Homelessness, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Steve Rogers, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Physical Abuse, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Sickfic, Steve Rogers-centric, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ***12/21/2020- all chapters have been edited and updated for clarity and grammar errors***“Who’s the mystery child?” Tony asked, cutting straight to the chase.Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing that Tony’s finding out about Anya was all thanks to Friday. It’s not that he needed to keep the girl a secret, he just figured it’d be more stressful for her if everyone came barrelling in at once.“Anya. She’s sixteen and I saw her getting her ass beat by her ‘boyfriend’. I offered to let her stay here for the night.”When homeless orphan Anya is rescued from an attack by Bucky Barnes, it turns into a father-daughter relationship that neither of the duo ever expected.
Relationships: Avengers Team & Original Female Character(s), Clint Barton & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff & Original Female Character(s), Pepper Potts & Original Female Character(s), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Original Female Character(s), Peter Parker/Original Female Character(s), Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers & Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 262





	1. the meeting and the rescuing

Bucky found himself one day, nearly three years after he had been rescued from HYDRA, in a seedy part of the city during his mid-day run. 

He loved these runs, he found solace in them. Today, though, he couldn't help but be distracted by two figures fighting and yelling across the road from him.

Usually, Bucky wouldn’t stop when he saw a fight out of the corner of his eye. He'd seen enough fights to know that, sometimes, you just mind your business.

Something felt different about the fight he was witnessing today, though. Whoever the perpetrator was, they were _a lot_ bigger than the tiny figure getting thrown around. He heard the resounding thuds of flesh on flesh, then flesh on concrete. 

Maybe it did remind him a bit too much of Steve, so what? 

“Hey! Get offa’ them!” He called out, his deep voice booming in the otherwise quiet street. The attacker, a man with dark hair and a crazed expression, turned around at the voice. 

After landing one last kick to his victim (who was now curled into a ball on the concrete), he ran away. 

Bucky jogged across the street and closed in on the figure, who he could now identify as a relatively young girl. Her small frame was covered with an oversized ratty sweatshirt and a baggy pair of jeans. The tennis shoes on her feet were muddy and beat up with mismatched laces. She looked like hell, unconscious and so, _so_ young.

Kneeling next to her, he could see that her eye was bruised, but the wound looked at least a few hours old. There was also a gnarly wound on her forehead, probably from being kicked. He took note of the blood dripping from the wound, plastering pieces of hair down to her forehead. 

Bucky was assuming she had more injuries he couldn’t see, but there was no way in hell he was moving her clothes to check. He did, however, check for a pulse- and was relieved to find one.

Suddenly, the aforementioned unconscious girl was no longer unconscious. She let out a weak, garbled moan as she reached towards Bucky, clearly disoriented.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe," 

Bucky said, letting his voice take on an unusually gentle cadence,

"Just a little beat up but don’t worry, you’ll be alright. I can call you an ambulance,” he started to offer but second-guessed himself when he realized just _how_ young she was. 

The girl had hollow cheeks and dark undereye bags, an unsettling sight for such a youthful face. The bruise on her eye stood out in stark contrast like ink spilled on a milky white carpet. 

“Or I could call your parents? Would that be better?”

The teenager began to respond, but her words caught dry in her throat, and she let out a hacking cough. Bucky started to say something else, but she shook her head, harnessing the ability to speak.

“I, I’m...no. No parents, and no ambulance,” she croaked, trying and failing to push herself up.

“Hey, you gotta stay down for now,” Bucky said, doing his best to placate the disoriented girl, “I gotta call somebody, kid, I can’t just leave you here.”

“Well, good luck with that," she laughed at herself, but it was shallow and empty, devoid of any real joy. It was not a sound Bucky wanted to hear again.

"No parents, no guardians. I’d call them if they were,” another dry cough, “alive. No insurance, either. No money. So no ambulance. I’ll be fine, you can go.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head, “I can’t do that, kid. You’re hurt, you need medical attention. You heard’a the Avengers tower before?”

She narrowed her eyes at him questioningly but nodded.

“I live there, and Tony's got this decked-out medbay. We can get you all patched up and a bed to sleep in for the night, maybe somethin’ to eat? How does that sound?”

He saw a flash of hopefulness in the girl’s eyes, but something grey and grim quickly slid over her features. 

“I'm not for sale, jackass. You and your Avengers buddies like passin' around teenage girls, hm?"

Bucky was horrified at the notion, and his face showed it. Who did she think he was, a fucking child predator?

"Jesus Christ, _no."_

The girl gave him an unimpressed look, "Well excuse me for being suspicious of the strange man trying to get me to come home with him."

Bucky threw his hands up in defeat, "Fine, kid, whatever, sorry for bothering you."

He started to stand, and the girl took a quick breath, making a split-second decision.

"Wait, wait, I'm sorry. Can I- Jesus, I better not regret this- can I come with you?"

"You sure?" Bucky asked, but the girl already had determination set in her face. She nodded, and he offered her a hand to help her up, which she took. Her face crinkled in a wince when she stood, and Bucky could guarantee that she had more injuries he was unaware of.

He didn't comment on this, though, instead choosing to introduce himself.

“I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes.”

“I’m Anya.”

“Nice to meet you, Anya. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you? We’re not too far from the tower.”

Anya quickly shook her head, flinching slightly when Bucky offered to pick her up. “No, no, I’m good to walk.”

The walk to the tower was short, albeit a bit extended by Anya’s struggled walking. She had her arms wrapped around her waist, hugging herself. Bucky was honestly surprised she hadn’t passed out yet, but he was thankful for her consciousness.

“Here we are,” Bucky announced, the pair standing at the resident-only entrance of the large building.

The duo entered the building, Friday greeting them as always. “Mister Barnes, welcome back. Did you enjoy your run?”

Anya looked at him, confused. Bucky just smiled and waved her off, leading her to the elevator while he responded to the A.I’s question,

“Yeah, Fri, it was great. Listen, Anya here needs to get patched up, can you take us up to the MedBay?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the elevator doors shut, taking them up. Anya let out a deep breath, arms still wrapped around her injured midsection,

“So that thing runs the whole building?” she asked, confusion evident on her face. Bucky nodded,

“Pretty much. Friday’s great, she’s really helpful.”

The door opened with a ‘ding’, and the two stepped out into the bay. An empty hospital cot was before them, and Bucky gestured towards it.

“G’head and sit down. Is it just your head and eye, or is there anything else?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Bucky pulled a first aid kit off a nearby table and walked back to the cot, kneeling so the two were eye-level with each other.

“Yeah, those two, and my wrist. I'm also just all bruised up, uh," she gestured to her whole body, "everywhere. He fucked me up a lot this time,” she said, her voice heavy.

“Who is he?” Bucky asked, taping a piece of gauze to Anya’s forehead. She tensed up, breath halting.

“He’s, um, well, y’know how I said ‘no parents’?”

Bucky nodded,

“Well I was livin’ on the street for a little bit after they died, but Brock saw me and offered me a spot at his place. Said I had too pretty of a face for it to go to waste.”

Warning sirens went off in Bucky's mind. “How old are you, Anya? I don’t think I asked earlier.”

Anya sucked in a breath, “I’ll be seventeen next January.”

Bucky nodded, “Okay, sorry, continue,”

“Well, he just let me stay with him, gave me a place to live. He was really nice at first, never hit me, never yelled. But, y’know, some people just take their anger out like that. He was just extra mad tonight."

She gave him a shrug as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?', and Bucky's heart ached for the kid.

Bucky let out an exhale, knowing in his heart that he needed to do _something_ to keep this girl safe. “Why don’t you sleep here tonight? There are guest rooms, you can shower, I’ll have Pepper get you something to wear. Are you hungry? Shit, I can get you something to eat, I just...you shouldn’t go back there tonight. He’s probably all upset that you got away and, I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling ‘bout it.”

Anya sat silently for a moment before responding. “That's nice of you, but the longer I stay away, the more pissed off Brock will get. I might as well just go back now, hope that he's in a better mood now that he got his anger out."

" _On you._ He got his anger out on you, and he'll just do the same thing as soon as he gets mad again. C'mon, kid, just for tonight?"

Slowly, Anya nodded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Just for tonight.”

They finished up in the medbay, and Bucky took the girl up to the floor that housed all Avengers guests.

“Here’s the room you can stay in, there are some clothes on the bed and the bathrooms’ attached, it’s right in there,” Bucky explained, gesturing to a door located on the other side of the large guest room. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

Anya nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure, thank you though.”

“Yeah, anytime, kid,” Bucky replied, shutting the door gently, leaving Anya to herself.

“Barnes!” The familiar voice of the billionaire rang out, and Bucky turned to face him. 

Things with Tony had gone from bad, to worse, to...fine. The men still had a palpable tension between them, but beyond that, they'd come to mutual respect and understanding.

“Who’s the mystery child?” Tony asked, cutting straight to the chase.

Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing that Tony’s finding out about Anya was all thanks to Friday. It’s not that he needed to keep the girl a secret, he just figured it’d be more stressful for her if everyone came barrelling in at once. 

“Anya. She’s sixteen and I saw her getting her ass beat by her ‘boyfriend’. I offered to let her stay here for the night.”

Tony sniffed, “Admirable of you, Barnes. Hey, if she ever wants to let that boyfriend go- which I think she should, he sounds like a real shitshow- tell her that my beloved nerd of an intern is also sixteen, and absolutely hopeless with girls. We can put them in a playpen, or something, it’ll be fun.”

Bucky laughed, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that, Tony.”

Tony nodded, starting to walk away before turning back around. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for her, Barnes.” 

“Thanks, Stark.”

Anya put her hands on the clean, white countertop, staring at herself in the mirror.

_Holy shit,_ she thought, _you’re at the Avengers tower."_

Away from Brock, that was the important part. This was the closest thing to safety and security she'd had in months.

She took note of her appearance. The forehead gash had been precisely cleaned by Bucky and covered in a small piece of gauze. Her black eye was intense, but she was rather used to it. 

Sure, Brock didn’t normally take her outside to beat her up, and she wasn’t entirely sure that he _wasn’t_ planning on killing her tonight, but bruises were nothing new. 

Bruises were something she could handle. 

She stepped into the pristine, modern shower, marveling at how _nice_ it was. She scrubbed her brown hair with the provided shampoo, inhaling deeply at the scent of fresh citrus. The conditioner smelled the same, and she relicked in just how clean she felt. 

Scrubbing her body, she tried to ignore the pain radiating from the rainbow of bruises and scrapes that littered her abdomen. 

She tensed up at the thought of how Brock would react to her return tomorrow.She wished she could stay here, in this hot, clean shower, forever, but she knew a pipe dream when she heard it. 

She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind. If this was her one night of safety, of warmth, of being clean, inside and out, for the first time in months, she was going to enjoy it. Finishing up her shower, she fell into the comfort of the thick, fluffy grey towel. 

Once she was all dried off, she left the bathroom, slipping into the pajamas that had been left on the bed. They consisted of light blue sweatpants and a fuzzy white pullover, as well as gray undergarments and socks. 

It was the cleanest Anya’d felt in ages. As she cozied up under the white comforter of the king-sized bed, laying her head on the memory foam pillow, one word crossed her mind:

Safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: 12/21/2020
> 
> hi friends, I'm currently going through and editing this story into something I'm proud of. 
> 
> my writing style has changed and improved so much in these past months, and I want my story to reflect that.
> 
> I'm keeping the plot the same, but editing basically all of the story.
> 
> I'm changing the OC of 'Mike' to Brock Rumlow because fuck Brock Rumlow. Please call out any 'Mike's that I haven't replaced, I'm hoping there aren't any.
> 
> You don't have to re-read if you don't feel like it, I'm just doing this because I'm planning on some more works in this series, so I want to be proud of it all.
> 
> original notes-
> 
> hi. hello. it's me, coming at you straight from the shitshow of a world we're living in right now.
> 
> so yes! i am starting a new fic! FINALLY! this has been brewing in my head for literal months and i'm so so happy with how the first chapter turned out. i hope you enjoyed it :D
> 
> as of right now, i'm planning for this to have 10 chapters. however, if you have any ideas/things you want to see, i'd love to hear it!
> 
> and just in case i wasn't clear enough: the relationship between bucky and anya is STRICTLY platonic and parental. i know she was comparing him to mike in the end there, but it's more because she now has a new male figure in her life and she's still figuring everything out.
> 
> comments and kudos mean the absolute world to me and inspire me to keep writing <3
> 
> if you're reading this: i love you!


	2. introductions, introductions.

Anya awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed and at ease than she had in months. To be fair, her usual sleeping situation consisted of some very less-than-ideal circumstances (see: Brock).

Being so safe and so far away from the man was a dream come true for Anya, something she’d been wishing for since the day he’d taken her in.

She’d told Bucky the truth about Brock...partially. She had left out a few details.

The thing is, when they first started living together, it wasn’t all too bad. He called her his ‘girlfriend’ right off the bat, which disgusted Anya to no end, (but disgusted her less than the thought of going back to the dirty alleyways she’d spent countless nights in already). 

So she put up with it. Food and a bed and a place to live while Brock was at work. Truly, the only downside to the arrangement was  _ him.  _

She hadn’t told Bucky that the beatings were a regular occurrence, that he’d sometimes drag her outside at unholy hours of the night just so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. 

She also hadn’t told Bucky, or anyone, for that matter, about the  _ other  _ things Brock made her do. The things that made her gag and sob and take scalding hot showers just to get him off of her, out of her, away from her.

Those things, Anya knew, were the worst.

Shaking her head to get the thoughts of Brock away, she stretched her arms and legs one more time before crawling out of the huge bed. 

Another outfit was laying on top of the silver dresser, folded neatly.

It was simple, consisting of a black pair of leggings and a gray sweater. The leggings were a bit too long, which Anya didn’t mind, and the sweater was slightly oversized. There were also new undergarments and socks, still in their clear packaging. Anya didn’t focus  _ too  _ much on where these clothes came from, although it was a bit odd, she was thankful none the less.

She brushed her hair and teeth in the bathroom, avoiding her own harrowed gaze in the mirror.

Anya hadn't always looked like this. She hadn't always been hollowed cheekbones and splotchy skin, bruises and cuts and eyes without joy behind them.

It was who she had become.

(It was who Brock had turned her into.)

Anya left the bathroom and wandered to the closed bedroom door, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Did Bucky expect her to leave as soon as she woke up? Or would that just worry him more? Opening the door, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to look for the man and say ‘thank you’ before she was on her way. 

After all, with how pissed off Brock had been the night before, she truly wasn’t sure if she would’ve survived the beating had Bucky not stepped in. 

Add that to the best night of sleep she’d had in months, and a shower with more than some shitty men’s body wash, Bucky deserved at least her gratitude if nothing else. 

Anya stepped into the elevator, "Um, Friday?"

"Yes, Miss Morozov?"

Anya froze. How did this...thing? Sentient...computer? Know her name?

"Who told you who I am?"

"I performed a face scan when you entered the premises, Miss Morozov, and found your identity by face-matching to a school photo dated March 3rd, 2014. I apologize if this has upset you."

The computer sounded as apologetic as you could expect, so Anya let it slide.

"It's fine, Friday. Could you take me to Bucky, please?"

Friday affirmed that she would take Anya down to the common floor, where Bucky was eating breakfast with a few others.

Anya had spaced out and was startled back to reality when the elevator doors opened to reveal a tall, blonde man stepping into the elevator. He had clearly expected it to be empty.

“Woah,” a deep voice said, one that she didn’t recognize as belonging to Bucky.

Looking up, Anya found herself face to face (well, face to chest, considering she was a good six inches shorter than the man) with  _ The. Captain. America.  _

The man smiled at her kindly, “You must be Anya, I’m Steve Rogers.” He said, holding his hand out for her to shake. She did, her small hand being engulfed by his much larger one.

“Strong grip,” he noted appreciatively, which made Anya let out a small laugh as she broke the shake. 

“Bucky’s down on the main floor with everybody having breakfast. I was just about to head down there if you want to join? He said he was planning on letting you just sleep as long as you needed, said you had a rough night.” Steve said, gesturing to her eye and the bandage on her head.

"Friday's taking me down there right now, actually. And yeah, it wasn't my best night."

Anya nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Yeah, it was um...not the best.”

Steve nodded in understanding, "Buck told me about your boyfriend. He doesn't sound...great."

"He's an asshole," Anya said, frankly, before changing the topic.

“Bucky said yesterday that a ton of people live here, are they all down there now?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty full at the moment, but I think it’s just us two, Buck, Natasha, Tony, and maybe his intern here for breakfast.”

“Tony has an intern?” Anya asked,

Steve laughed, “Yeah, Peter’s great. He’s around your age, probably. He stays over on weekends sometimes so he and Tony can work in the lab all night. Until Pepper gets on them for it and makes them go to bed, that is.”

Anya smiled and started to reply to Steve, but not before the large elevator doors were opening before them. Four heads turned to face them, three of which Anya recognized.

First of all, the fucking Black Widow herself, probably the most badass woman to ever exist in Anya’s book, was sitting criss-cross on the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. Her hair was pulled back into a single french braid and she was wearing a black workout set.

At the table, Tony and a brown-haired teenage boy (Peter?) were eating while talking about something on the StarkPad in front of them. Tony waved his hand, causing a hologram to shine up from the screen. 

Whatever it was, it looked very sciency and not at all like something Anya could understand. When she’d still gone to school, she always preferred English and art rather than math or science.

Finally, Bucky was standing on the ground facing Natasha while sipping on a smoothie, and they were talking quietly in a language that Anya distinguished as Russian. She was half-Russian herself, on her dad’s side, and one of her fondest memories was being sung Russian lullabies as a baby. She wasn’t fluent in the language, but she could carry a conversation to an extent.

She followed Steve out of the elevator, with Bucky being the first to acknowledge their presence.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted, meeting Steve in the middle with a half-hug and peck on the lips.

Huh. So that was a thing. Not that Anya had an issue with it, she was bi herself, she just figured two men from the forties wouldn’t be tolerant of gay people, much less gay themselves. 

“Sorry, Anya,” Bucky said, sounding almost sheepish. “I would’ve woken you up when I came down here but I figured you needed a full night’s sleep.”

Anya smiled at the man, “Yeah, it was great, best night of sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Bucky replied, taking a sip out of his smoothie. “You hungry? This kitchen’s stocked with just about everything.”

Tony piped up from his seat at the table, “There’s pancakes and bacon on the stove if you want any, help yourself.”

Anya thanked the man, picking up a plate and putting down two chocolate chip pancakes and a couple of strips of bacon, as well as grabbing a bottle of water from the high-tech fridge. Opting out of interrupting Peter and Tony’s science-bash, Anya set her plate down on the counter and sat in one of the three tall, backless barstools.

Steve had also gotten pancakes, his stack much larger than Anya’s, and was standing next to Bucky so that they were both facing her across the counter. Natasha was still in her spot, just a foot or so away from Anya. She silently handed the teenager and super-soldier two forks, which they both thanked her for. Just as they began eating, Tony spoke up again from across the room.

“What’s the story with the eye?” He asked, making a circle with his hand around his own. Peter shoved him in the ribs with his elbow, rolling his eyes.

“Mister  _ Stark _ , you can’t just ask someone that!” The young intern said, sounding scandalized.

It was Tony who rolled his eyes this time, “What? A beat-up teenager comes into my building, I’d like to know the story, sue me.”

“It’s fine,” Anya quickly replied, “I just got it from my, uh, my boyfriend.”

“Sounds like a really crappy boyfriend,” Peter mumbled under his breath.

Tony hitched his voice up an octave, doing a bad impression of Peter. “Mister  _ Parker,  _ you can’t just call someone’s boyfriend shitty.”

Peter flushed, mumbling an apology to Anya and casting a glare at Tony, who just laughed before his face became serious. Facing Anya, he said,

“Really, though, he does sound shitty. And that’s quite a shiner, damn.” Tony said, marveling at the bruise on her eye.

“Ned any ice?” Peter offered, sounding genuinely concerned. It barely hurt anymore, though, so Anya denied him with a ‘no, thank you.’

Natasha tilted her head down at the girl, “So this boyfriend of yours, does he do this a lot?”

Bucky started to interrupt her with a “Nat, she probably doesn’t want to talk about it with people she met ten minutes ago,” but Anya waved him off.

“It’s okay, um, yeah, he does it quite a bit, but it's nothing I can't handle. I've tried to get him to stop, but he can't exactly be...reasoned...with."

Natasha nodded, taking a bite of her cereal. “But you’re still with him?” 

Anya took a prolonged bite of the pancake before answering the woman. “It’s sort of my only option right now. And Brock’s not...completely awful, not always! He just has a temper…” 

Anya turned around, facing the huge flat screen T.V on the wall in the living room area. It was on screensaver mode, with nothing but the time displayed in large, white letters. Nine-fifty in the morning, Brock would be awake in about an hour.

“...speaking of which, I should probably head back soon, um, he’ll be really mad if I’m not back in time to make his breakfast,” Anya explained, sounding nearly apologetic. “Thank you all so much for letting me stay, and for this,” she gestured to the plate in front of her, “and everything.”

“Wait, you live with him? How old is he?” Natasha asked, 

Anya froze. She wasn’t entirely sure if Bucky knew how old Brock was, but the rest of them? They had no clue. They probably thought she was dealing with some teenage asshole, not a grown man.

Stalling for a moment before answering, Anya nervously replied, “He’s, um, well he’s older than me."

Steve tilted his head, "How much older?"

Anya sighed, she had really hoped this topic could be avoided. "He's, um, he's twenty...four." She avoided eye contact as this revelation, choosing instead to take a sip from her water bottle.

The room stilled. Anya could practically  _ hear  _ the adults clench their jaws.

Bucky was the first to break the silence. 

“So, if I’m getting this right, he’s eight years older than you?”

Anya nodded, eyes still focused on her plate.

Bucky continued, “He’s an abusive piece of shit, he’s ‘dating’ a minor,” Bucky used air quotes, “and he can’t even cook for himself. Why are you still with him, Anya? Why not leave?”

Anya felt her cheeks heat up in half embarrassment, half anger. 

She wasn’t sure why Bucky’s words hit her in the wrong way, but they just did. 

_ Yes,  _ Brock was shitty, that was established a while ago. But to insinuate that Anya could just break up with him? Just like that? Like she hadn’t tried that a million times already? Like Brock wasn’t the only thing keeping her from being homeless for the second time? Like every time she’d tried to leave she hadn’t ended up with broken bones?

_ “To remind you who you belong to.”  _

Anya shook her head slowly, trying to get his voice out of her mind. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill. She took a deep breath, but her exhale was more of a shudder than anything else. She heard Steve whisper something to Bucky. She lifted her gaze to look at the men before her.

“Do you think, do you  _ really  _ think that I’d be getting abused and screwed by a disgusting grown man if it wasn’t my only fucking option? Do you think I’m doing this, what, for fun? Do you think I’d be doing this if the only other option wasn’t dead in an alley somewhere? This isn’t my first choice, Bucky, or my second or my third. But it’s keeping me alive, and right now, that’s all I can ask for.”

If Anya Morozov was good at one thing, it was dramatic outbursts. Ones that either, A: resulted in her oversharing way more than she originally intended to, or B: resulted in her swearing like a sailor at whoever she was angry at.

She did it to her parents, she’d done it to Brock (which, of course, didn’t end well), and now, she’d done it to a literal  _ Avenger.  _ One who’d rescued her and helped her and given her a bed to sleep in.

She  _ hated _ what Brock had done to her, what he'd forced her to become. It was shameful and disgusting and she hated it so much, and now she hated that a whole room of people knew about it.

It was shitty. It was a shitty situation and Anya felt shitty for yelling at Bucky because he didn’t deserve it, he didn’t. 

Anya glanced to the side and noticed that Tony and Peter had left sometime in the middle of her outburst. She was grateful for this small act of grace.

Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, however, were all still in the room. Within a few feet of her. And two of them were trained assassins. All three of them could kill her with one motion, she was sure of it. And she’d just all but screamed at Bucky in his own home. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _

Anya stood up, placing her hands on the counter and planning on running out right there and then, but Natasha stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. No pressure, she didn’t grab or yank her, just a soft touch.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Anya. You’re fine, it’s alright. Bucky shouldn’t have pushed, you have every right to get upset.”

Anya locked eyes with the woman and saw something surprisingly warm in them. Something that comforted her. Something that understood her. She trusted the woman, sitting back down on the barstool.

Bucky began to speak again, his tone much calmer this time. “I’m sorry, Anya, I should’ve figured he was forcing you to stay. That was out of line of me, and I’m sorry. What if you didn't have to go back to him, though?"

Anya held back an eye-roll, “I think we’ve already established that I don’t have any other options.”

Steve leaned forward, a bit. "What if you do?”

She tilted her head at the man, clearly confused.  _ I already told you I don’t, but okay, Mister Captain Sir. I guess I’ll whip one up real quick, just buy a house with my no money and no credit, it’ll be grand.  _

Bucky’s voice rang out through her ears, ending her train of thought.

“What if you stayed here?”

Oh.

_ Oh.  _

The world slowed down. Halted, maybe. Just for a second.

_ What if you stayed here?  _

Wow. She certainly wasn’t expecting that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 12/21/2020, re-read if you want to!
> 
> HELLO! if anyone is reading this (is anyone reading this?) I am so very sorry for the cliffhanger! (although I bet it's not a huge shocker what Anyas answer will be) 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! i adore you!
> 
> if you have any questions, ideas, things you want to see, please leave a comment! I'm still in the early stages of this story so anything and everything you'd like to see is up for grabs!
> 
> ily very much if you're still reading. stay safe and stay healthy.


	3. a new home

Anya froze. What was she supposed to say to that? 

At first, obviously, it sounded like a dream come true. But it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

She knew that with everything good, there were strings attached. 

Brock, for instance, gave her a place to live and enough food to survive. 

In turn, she let him take and take and take until she was broken beyond repair. 

It wasn’t a fair trade, not at all, but life wasn’t a fair game. 

Living with the Avengers would be life-changing and wonderful, of course, but there had to be some ‘give’ in return on Anya’s part. There always was- and she wasn’t sure how much more of herself she could throw away.

"You don't have to answer now," Bucky said, taking her silence as a denial.

Anya tilted her head at him, “What’s in it for all of you?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked

“You know what I mean. You’re offering to let me- someone you just met- live with you, in this expensive ass tower, with no strings attached? Do you think I’m that naive?”

Natasha gave her a fixed look that made Anya shrink back an inch.

“I know it’s a foreign concept to grasp, but you’re being offered this because we want to help you. You aren’t the first person we’ve taken in and you certainly won’t be the last. Do you understand me?”

Anya nodded, “I’m just...not really used to people wanting to help me without ulterior motives.”

“And that’s completely understandable. Just know that you’re always safe when you’re here, okay?” said Bucky.

Safe. There was the million-dollar word.

Anya hadn’t felt truly safe since her parents passed, and that was almost three years ago. Since then, she’d had nothing but unstable ground to stand on. This, though... was a chance at real stability. Real safety. A home.

“I...I think I’d like to stay. If that’s still alright.” Anya said, voice small.

Bucky nodded, “Of course it’s alright.”

So that was that. Anya Morozov was officially a resident of the Avenger’s tower and she couldn’t believe that the last three days had actually happened.

Anya jumped slightly at the knock-on the- no, her door. After she’d agreed to stay, the four of them had hung out in the kitchen just talking for a while.

Nat was very cool and Anya literally wanted to be her, for starters. She was amazing. (It definitely wasn’t because she was the most beautiful woman Anya’d ever met, and definitely had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been her celebrity crush since age 12. No. Shut up.)

“Come in!” she called, setting down the copy of Looking For Alaska she’d found in the tower’s library.

To her surprise, the person who opened the door was Peter, Tony’s intern.

“Oh, hi,” she said, looking up at him expectantly.

“Hey, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Mr. Stark said you’re gonna be living here now, that’s cool!”

Anya nodded, “That’s the plan. You live here too, right?”

He shook his head, “No, well, sort of, I guess. I have a room, and I stay over quite a bit, mostly on weekends, but I actually live with my aunt in Queens.”

“You’re Tony’s... intern?”

Peter shrugged, “That’s the story.”

“Huh. Well as much as I would love to hear what the actual story is, I actually have to go somewhere really quick. It was nice talking to you, Peter, I’m glad there’s someone my age here.”

He smiled, but through it, Anya could see a flash of...was that disappointment? Regardless, she had something she needed to take care of. The cute local tower boy could wait.

After promising Friday that she didn't need to alert anyone of Anya leaving and that she would be back soon, the girl found herself in a place she hadn't been in a long time.

Anya wrapped her arms around her midsection, trying to stay warm in the crisp New York weather. 

The cemetery was actually closer to the tower than it had been from Brock’s, not that he ever let her go there. She hadn’t been in, God, over a year now. Kneeling down, she held back tears as she ran a finger under her mama’s name:

_ Beloved Wife and Mother _

_ Amelia Marie Morozov _

_ 1971-2016 _

“Hi, mama,” she whispered. “I miss you.”

She turned her head to the headstone next to her mother’s,

_ Beloved Father and Husband _

_ Viktor Ivan Morozov _

_ 1969-2016 _

Her voice cracked, “Hi, daddy. I...I’m really sorry I haven’t been able to see you two. I miss you both,” she shuddered out a sob, “so much.

"Things have been hard, and I just...I really wish you were still here to help me. I don’t know what I’m doing without you guys. I have news,” she said, pausing for a response that would never come,

“I have a place to live now. A good place to live. I know I never told you about Brock but he doesn’t matter anymore. I live with the Avengers, daddy. 

"Remember how much you loved them? They’re all really nice to me. I think...I think this is good. I don’t know, I have a good feeling about it. I wish you could be here with me. I need you both to know that I’m never gonna forget about you. 

"Even though I live with new people now, they’ll never replace you. Я люблю тебя, daddy. I love you, mama.”

Anya sat there, letting her words soak into the universe. She hoped that wherever her mama and daddy were, they knew that she was okay.

After a while, she stood up, placing a kiss on the top of each headstone. She whispered a few more words before walking back to the tower, making a bee-line to the room on Bucky and Steve's floor that had been declared hers. She laid down in the bed and let a wave of emotions overtake her.

Bucky knocked on the door, waiting for a small ‘come-in’ before opening it. When he did, he saw Anya sitting on her bed, eyes red and downcast. She looked...pretty pitiful, honestly.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a tentative step forward. She quickly nodded, trying- and failing- to discreetly wipe her tears away. Bucky stood near her bed, leaving a bit of distance to avoid crowding her.

“Are you sure?” he asked, trying not to push too hard.

“I’m sure,” she replied, voice hoarse.

Bucky nodded slowly, not sure what to say next. “Do you want to… watch a movie? I can make popcorn?” he offered. 

It was a weak attempt at comfort, but Anya appreciated it nonetheless. Seeing her parent’s graves had brought up a lot of emotions, but she also felt like she finally had the freedom to start healing and enjoying the situation she'd found herself in.

She gave him a small smile, “That’d be great."

The movie ended up being a good distraction for Anya. She wasn’t as upset anymore, (can anyone really be upset while watching Chicken Run?), she was more at peace with the fact that her parents knew she was safe. 

Despite that, she still had questions about all the new things in her life. Especially the one that’d been racking her brain ever since that morning.

Bucky took another bite of popcorn, he could feel Anya’s eyes burning into him. He turned to face her, letting out a deep laugh when he saw how focused she looked.

“What?” he asked,

“Why did you trust me so quickly?” Anya countered, and if Bucky was taken aback by the question, he didn’t show it.

“We’ve been over this, we all agreed you needed help and we could help you.”

“But you just trusted me! Right away! Just like that!” she said, sounding exasperated.

“What’s not to trust?”

Anya rolled her eyes, “I don’t know, what if I was a...a spy! Or a humanoid drone sent to get surveillance on you- they can do that now, by the way- or an espionag-”

Bucky cut her off, “Are you a humanoid drone, Anya?”

“Obviously I’m not a goddamn drone, Bucky!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m serious, I don’t get it.”

He sighed, “You want a real answer? You remind me of Steve.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Bucky didn’t elaborate further, and Anya didn’t ask him to. She knew that Steve meant the world to the man, she could see it every time they talked to each other. 

So to be compared to him by Bucky was... nice. Very, very nice. Their comfortable silence was broken a few moments later when Anya remembered something,

“I have to pick up my stuff from Brock's t’morrow, by the way.”

“What did you leave there?” Bucky asked, eating another bite of popcorn.

“Just, um, some stuff from my parents,” Anya said quietly. She averted her gaze down to her lap.

Bucky nodded, not pushing further. Anya had talked about her parents a grand total of two times since they met, and he figured it wasn’t something she liked discussing. 

That was something he could respect. 

“Yeah, of course. One of us should come with you, though. I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him after everything he did.”

Anya considered it for a moment, “I don’t know, Bucky, that might just make Brock more pissed off. I could just go in really fast, tell him he doesn’t have to worry about me anymore, and come right back out. I can handle him.”

Bucky shook his head, “Sorry, kid, lemme re-phrase. We can go there any time you want tomorrow and get everything you need, but I’m not letting you go in there alone, it’s not safe. He’s hurt you before and he’ll do it again, and that’s not a risk any of us are willing to take.”

“You aren’t letting me?” Anya questioned, an eyebrow slightly raised.

She knew, of course, that Bucky was right. 

‘Reasonable’ wasn’t exactly the best word to describe Brock, and there was no way he’d let her leave without a fight. 

This whole ‘doing what Bucky told her’ thing, though, was new. If she lived at the tower, would Bucky always be in charge of her? If he said no to something, did she have to obey that? She was almost seventeen, thank you very much, and she’d been taking care of herself for over a year now.

But at the same time… something inside her didn’t mind that Bucky was telling her no. It made her feel like he actually cared about her wellbeing, something that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was warm and familiar in a way that reminded her of her parents. 

Her heart ached as she remembered the days when they made her feel that way.

_ “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Anya, happy birthday to you!” _

_ Her mom looked at her, green eyes glimmering. “Blow out your candles, baby!” She said, ruffling Anya’s hair. _

_ “Make a wish!” her dad said, peeking up from behind the camera he was holding. For what felt like her whole childhood, her dad was taking pictures. Their apartment walls were lined with four-by-sixes of just about everything. _

_ Baby Anya in the bath, hair spiked up _ _ , splashing the camera. Her on the first day of kindergarten, missing both front teeth. Smiling in the booth of Cheesecake Factory on her thirteenth birthday, tiny party hat on her head. _

_ Throughout everything, her parents were always there. Her beautiful, strong, resilient mama cheering her on and her funny, kind, always-joking dad taking a picture. _

_ That’s how it’d always been, and it’s how it always would be. _

_ Until it wasn’t. _

_ Anya closed her eyes and made a wish, blowing out the six candles on her cake. Her parents cheered, pulling her into a hug. _

“You alright?” Bucky asked, looking concerned. Anya hadn’t even realized that she’d spaced out.

She nodded quickly, “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, thinking about him just freaks me out.”

Bucky looked at her with understanding, “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go alone, we both know that you’ll get hurt, Anya. I know you’re used to being self-sufficient and I admire you for growing up so fast, but you don’t have to anymore. Y’got a whole team of us behind you now, kid.”

At the sincerity of his words, Anya let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Despite what everyone had said, she’d honestly still believed that she was staying at the tower because Bucky felt obligated. 

The Avengers were meant to help people, after all, and she figured she was just some sort of pity project. She’d come to peace with it, even. But hearing Bucky’s words made her feel like maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t true. He really did seem like he cared about her, as strange as it was.

Already on edge from thinking about her parents, and even more so from her visit to them earlier, Anya couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up with tears. Before she knew what she was doing, she fell forward into Bucky’s chest, wrapping her arms around the man. She felt him tense, obviously caught off guard, before slowly returning the hug, clearly unsure of what to do with a heap of crying teenager on him.

Anya gulped down a shaky sob, her tears running into the soft material of his sweatshirt.

“Hey, what’s wrong, did I say something?” Bucky asked, voice softer than usual. Anya shook her head, gently pushing away from the man, embarrassed at her display of emotion. She wiped her tears again and let out a small laugh.

“Sorry for that, and no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…it’s nice to feel like I might be cared about.” Anya explained with a bashful shrug.

Bucky gave her one of his rare smiles, wiping a stray tear off her cheek with the knuckle of his thumb. “You are cared about, kid.”

At ten am sharp the next morning, Anya and Bucky set off to Brock’s apartment. 

While going alone had seemed like a good idea last night, Anya was beyond relieved to have Bucky by her side now. He was right- it wasn’t safe for her to be around Brock alone. Although neither of them voiced their concerns, Anya could tell that they were both nervous about the interaction.

Before she knew it, the pair were standing in front of the grimy apartment.

“You ready?” Bucky asked,

Anya nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bucky brought his fist to the door, knocking twice. There was a moment of silence before the door swung open and revealed him.

Brock was standing there, beer in hand (at ten am, nonetheless) looking just as ragged and dirty as Anya had remembered. 

He looked at Bucky first, clearly confused, before his gaze shifted down to Anya. Bucky placed a protective hand on her shoulder and she leaned into the safety of the touch.

“What the hell are you doing here, bitch?” he spat, “Missed me that much? Here I thought you were runnin’ away, but look at you, you ran right back to daddy, didn’t’cha? That’s my good girl,” he purred, and Anya could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

Her stomach turned at his words but she kept her face steady, not letting her disgust show.

Bucky truly, genuinely thought he might throw up.

“Brock, I’m just here to get my stuff.”

He sneered, “What stuff?”

“My box in the closet.”

“Aww, princess, I’m afraid that box said bye-bye when you did.”

Anya clenched her fist, “What?”

He leaned closer to her, bending down so they were eye level. “I said, the box is gone, whore. If you’re not stayin’ here then go put that pretty mouth,” he grabbed Anya’s chin in his hand and jerked her head side-to-side, “to use somewhere else.”

Anya started to yank away from the man, but before she knew what was happening, Bucky’s fist connected with his face, and he flew backward. 

Anya stepped back, eyes wide as Bucky stormed into the apartment building.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he ordered gruffly.

“Bucky, what are you doing?!”

He turned to face her, “I’m gettin’ your damn box. Now stay there, gimme five minutes and we can go.”

With that, the door was unceremoniously flung shut. Anya scooted back so her back was pressed against the opposite wall, leaving her to wonder what the hell just happened.

Bucky slammed the door before walking a few steps so he could stand over the pathetic man. He rolled his eyes at the whimpering noises that he was currently making.

“Where’s the box, asshole?”

Brock pushed himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, “Like I told the bitch, it’s gone.”

Bucky leaned down, grabbing the smaller man by the collar of the shirt with his metal hand, keeping his flesh one curled in a fist at his side.

“I said, where’s the box?”

Brock hesitated a moment and Bucky jerked him forward, making him yelp.

“It’s in the closet!” he said, gasping for breath. Bucky dropped him to the floor, walking over to the open bedroom door. He swung the closet doors open and was glad to see a small brown cardboard box tucked in the corner. He grabbed it under one arm, kicking the doorframe as he walked out.

Brock was standing in front of the door, now, arms crossed. “What are you to her, anyway?”

“I’m not a fucking child rapist, unlike you, so I don’t think you’re entitled to any answers,” Bucky said, glowering down at the man.

Brock rolled his eyes, “Oh please, the little slut was beggin' for it."

Bucky clenched his jaw, holding himself back from doing what he really wanted to do on Anya’s account. “You’re lucky I have a kid waiting for me in the hallway, or else this,” he gestured towards the man, “would be ending very differently.”

He shoved the man aside, stepping out the door. Not before turning around to face Brock again, “I’d sleep with one eye open from now on, подонок. The Black Widow has a special move for guys like you, it’d be a shame if she has to use it.”

With that, he slammed the door. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, Anya was standing in front of him, shock evident on her face.

“You got it!” she said, happily taking the box when he handed it to her. Bucky smiled at her excitement, before darkening yet again when he thought about the things Brock had said. She was a child, how was this guy so fucked in the head?

“Obviously I got it, I wasn’t gonna let that douche keep your stuff.”

The pair walked down the stairs and out the building, heading back towards the tower. Anya giggled a little, “He is a douche, isn’t he? God, after everything he’s done to me, you’d think I wouldn’t be laughing, but watching you chuck him across the room like that,” she looked up at him like he hung the stars,

“It was cool, Bucky. And very satisfying, I have to say.”

“Well, I’m glad to be of service. Nat’s gonna have a field day with that asshole, just you wait.”

Anya smacked his arm, but there was a glint of relief in her eyes. “Bucky, she’ll kill him!”

“She won’t kill anyone, Anya. She’ll simply give him a piece of her mind and leave him for the NYPD with his heart still beating.”

She let out a breath, and Bucky could see a small crack in her nonchalant facade, a crack that showed just how broken Brock had left her. It made him want to wrap her in a blanket and beat the ass of anyone who tried to hurt her.

He bumped her with his shoulder, “Hey. You know I’ve got you, right? You don’t have to worry about him, or anyone else, for that matter, anymore. Okay?”

Anya smiled, and her gratefulness was evident on her face. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“Anytime, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 12/21/2020
> 
> hello! im so sorry this took almost 2 weeks to post, I'm simply the worst, i have no excuse. i hope you all enjoy this chapter, though! its the longest one yet and I'm actually pretty proud of it. if you have any thoughts, good bad or in between, please leave me a comment! they make my heart soar!
> 
> i love you! thank you so much for reading <3


	4. secret identities and parental worries

_ Anya came-to in a dark room, her wrists bound together with a thick black belt. She tried to identify where the hell she was, but she just...couldn’t. She couldn’t put any pieces together. Suddenly a waft of something hit her nose. Burning. She yanked at her restraints, desperately pulling her arms apart, but the leather was too strong. She was submerged in a cloud of ash and dust and she couldn’t fucking move.  _

_ A face appeared inches from her own, illuminated in glowing, orange light. The woman’s face had soot on it and she was crying.  _

_ “Mama?” Anya asked, choking back a sob. She tried to reach for her mother but she couldn’t.  _

_ “You should’ve saved me, baby. Why didn’t you save me?” her mother cried, and Anya shook her head rapidly, tears falling down both of their faces.  _

_ “No, no, mama I’m sorry. I tried, I swear I tried, I just,”  _

_ Her father’s face appeared next to her mother’s.“You just what, Anya? If it weren’t for you, we’d still be here. You didn’t even try, baby, you just let us burn. And now look at you, living in luxury, not even missing us?”  _

_ Anya screamed in pain, writing in her restraints, the room growing hotter by the second.  _

_ “No, daddy, no, I swear I tried! Please, please come back, I’m sorry, please!”  _

_ Her mother shook her head, tsking. “I’m disappointed in you, baby.”  _

_ She screamed out again, but her parent’s faces had disappeared. Pulling her wrists did nothing, they stayed bound together. She sobbed for what felt like an eternity before she was ripped to her feet by a hand in her hair.  _

_ “Aw, princess, don’t look so sad. It’s not your fault you’re such an incapable piece of trash. You’re good for one thing and one thing only, aren’t you?”  _

_ Brock. _

_ His voice was slimy, it made her feel dirty just hearing it. Anya frantically tried to pull away from him to no avail.  _

_ “Let me go, you dickbag!!”  _

_ He yanked her head backward, wrapping one grimy hand around her throat.  _

_ “That’s no way to talk to me, now is it, princess? If you’re gonna keep using your mouth to say such vile things, I might have to put it to better use. You’d like that, though, wouldn’t you?”  _

_ Anya tried to shake her head, but the lack of oxygen was starting to set in. She desperately tried to get leverage but he had too much on an advantage.  _

_ Brock kept whispering lewd things, but Anya’s vision had gone white. She closed her eyes, a tear slipping through.  _

Anya awoke with a gasp, scrambling to grab the sheets on either side of her. She yanked them up to her chin, tucking herself under the covers tightly. Blinking rapidly, Anya tried to get a grasp of her surroundings.

“Just a dream, it was just a dream,” she whispered to herself, trying to slow her rapid breaths to no avail. 

Her throat was painfully dry, and she silently prayed she hadn’t been screaming during her sleep.

She’d been having nightmares every night since she and Bucky had gotten her things from Brock. 

Nearly a week had passed, but she still hadn’t built up the courage to open the box. 

It’s not like she’d forgotten what was in there, she just knew that seeing her parent’s belongings had the potential to set her off.

Bucky and Steve, bless their hearts, were trying their hardest to make Anya feel at home. 

Therapy had been a hot topic, as was deciding what Anya would be doing school-wise. 

She had insisted that she was fine not doing school at all, which caused every adult in the tower to give her an ‘is this child for real?’ look while they continued to discuss it.

It was tentatively decided that she’d be doing online classes to make up her credits, as well as therapy twice a week. Anya wasn’t thrilled at the idea of returning to school, online or otherwise, after nearly two years without it. 

Nonetheless, she had promised Bucky she’d do her best, and a very eager Peter had offered to help her with homework, so it could be worse. 

Turns out, the classes weren’t as hard as she expected, and it really wasn’t too much of a burden. 

She’d only had one therapy session so far, with a very nice older lady named Dr. Orton, and it had gone fine. Anya wasn’t completely dreading going back, so she took that as a good sign. 

Anya and Peter had been getting closer and closer as the days passed. He seemed to always be around and was Anya’s movie-watching partner of choice. 

He was really sweet once you got used to the ‘excited-puppy’ energy he radiated, and Anya was glad to have another teenager to spend time with.

Anya shook herself from her thoughts, taking another breath before climbing out of her bed. She opened her door quietly and padded down the short hallway into the open concept kitchen slash living room area to get a glass of water. 

Although each person- or small group of people, in Bucky, Steve, and Anya’s case- had their own floor with everything they needed, most meals were spent on the main floor where the team gathered.

She jumped a little when she saw that, despite the late hour, Bucky and Steve were sitting on the couch mumbling about something. Anya started to scoot back, figuring she’d just go to bed and make another attempt at sleeping, but it was too late.

Steve saw her first, “Hey, Anya, you okay?” he asked, concern etched in his face in the same way most adults did when they spoke to her.

She stumbled on her words, unsure whether or not they’d be mad at her for being awake in the middle of the night. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I couldn’t sleep, well, I was, but I woke up, I was just getting water...sorry, I can go back now.”

“Nah, you’re fine.” Bucky assured her, waving his hand.“We couldn’t sleep either, that’s why we’re up.”

Anya nodded, and it dawned on her that a bunch of literal  _ superheroes  _ probably had nightmares worse than anything she could imagine. God, they probably thought she was ridiculous, her problems were nothing compared to theirs.

“Do you wanna join us?” Steve asked, a tired, but warm, smile on his face. Anya nodded, filling a cup of water up from the fridge before sitting down to Bucky’s left. 

Although Anya had severe trust issues when it came to men, courtesy of the asshole-that-shall-not be named, she was glad that her skittishness was lesser around Bucky and Steve. 

When she interacted with them it was more like being back with her dad than being with Brock, which she was thankful for. Her feelings on the rest of the men in the tower were another story, though. 

She  _ knew  _ they would never do anything to her in the same realm as Brock, but she couldn’t help but keep her distance from them regardless. 

Peter was the one exception to this because even though he was muscular and taller than her, he reminded her too much of Bambi, and he was always extra-careful to not startle her.

As for Tony, Clint, and Sam, (she had met the last two a few days prior when they returned from a three-week-long mission in Slovakia,) she kept a wide-berth between them and herself and tried her best to avoid being alone with them. 

The conversations they’d had, though, had been nothing but pleasant. 

She assumed Bucky had told them about her past trauma at least a little bit because they never attempted to push past her comfort zone. 

Steve handed her a fuzzy blanket, which Anya took with a small ‘thank you’. She wrapped it around herself, her glass of water now resting on a coaster on the coffee table, half-empty.

Her attention focused on the shades of green and blue coming from the TV, which she hadn't realized was on. The documentary played, and Anya recognized it as  _ Our Planet.  _ Glancing over, she could see Bucky and Steve giving each other  _ looks  _ in her peripheral vision

This was something that she’d noticed on her first day at the tower. The pair had a way of communicating without ever speaking. It was all slight head tilts and facial expressions, and suddenly they’d read each other's minds. It was really cute, if she was being honest, even if it was annoying to be ‘talked’ about right before her eyes.

“What woke you up?” Bucky asked,

“I, uh, had a bad dream…” Anya said, annoyed that the words sounded so  _ juvenile  _ coming out of her mouth.

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve offered, and Anya quickly shook her head. She had yet to go into depth about her parents to Bucky or Steve- she didn’t need them knowing how much of a failure she was.

“It’s okay, thanks, though,” she said, and they seemed to accept her answer. She rested her head on Bucky’s shoulder, the metal one, which was surprisingly more comfortable than you would imagine.

The penguins on the screen stumbled around the snow in a carefree way Anya wished she could emulate. She felt herself drifting to sleep, hoping that the new environment would mean no nightmares.

Anya awoke to an empty couch, and she groaned a little, sitting up from her half-laying down position to crack her neck. Just as she was doing so, Bucky and Steve walked out of their bedroom, both dressed in full mission gear.

“Good morning,” Steve said when he saw her. “Did you sleep okay? We would’ve moved you but it was only a few hours and you seemed pretty worn out.”

Anya stood up, yawning and stretching her back out. “I’m fine- where are you guys going?”

Bucky replied while strapping various weapons to himself. “Austria, it should be pretty quick, though- we’ll probably be back the day after tomorrow. Will you be fine by yourself?” He asked, looking up at her from where he was standing. 

Anya almost laughed. It was very sweet of him to care, and she certainly appreciated it, but it was basically impossible to  _ not  _ be okay in a tower as intuitive as this one. 

“I’ll be fine, go save the world,” she replied smoothly, and if she was a bit uneasy at the thought of being alone, she didn’t show it.

“You have therapy tomorrow, 4:30,” Bucky reminded her, “and you  _ are  _ planning on doing your schoolwork, right?” 

Anya held back an eye-roll, (you sleep through  _ one  _ Zoom meeting and suddenly you can’t be trusted) but her slight annoyance was spiked with an appreciation for Bucky. The man really was doing everything possible to help Anya, and she was infinitely grateful. He really was just a big ol’ softie in a hard exterior.

“Yes, yes, I promise,” she said, locking pinkies with the man.

“We gotta head out, Buck,” Steve said, sliding his shield onto his back. Bucky nodded, and the pair turned back to her. 

“Fri will let you know when we’re on our way back, try not to destroy anything,” Bucky said good-naturedly, pulling the girl into a side hug. She promised she wouldn’t and leaned against him for a moment before pulling away. 

“Have fu-un, kick ass! Bye, Steve!” Anya said, giving the man a small wave. Hugging territory was still reserved for Bucky-only, and even those were quick. 

Steve gave her a small salute, a smile on his face. “See you soon,”

The pair left after a few more words, and Anya plopped back down on the couch. The only other mission they’d gone on so far had been less than a day-long, so Anya didn’t really know what to do all alone in such a big place.

Well, she wasn’t  _ all  _ alone, she reminded herself. Pepper was still there, although that woman didn’t seem like she ever stopped working. She was nothing but kind to Anya, though, and had been the one to fill her closet with clothes the second day into her living there. She wasn’t sure if this mission was for everybody on the team or just a few of them. 

“Friday, did everybody leave with Bucky and Steve, or is anyone else still here?” Anya asked the omnipresent A.I, looking up at the ceiling. Instantly, the distinctly Irish voice responded,

“All essential team members are departing as we speak, and Ms. Potts is at a conference in D.C but should be returning tomorrow morning.”

Oh. So she really _ was  _ alone. She thought for a moment before an idea popped into her head. 

She grabbed the StarkPhone that Tony had insisted was hers, swiping to turn it on. 

She scrolled through the contacts until she found the one she was looking for- Peter. They had exchanged numbers so they could play GamePigeon, but they’d had more than a few late-night chats since then. 

They’d never gone right out and said it, but they both knew it was because they had nightmares and were always up at ungodly hours.

_ peter!!!!  _

A few minutes passed before his reply, and Anya realized that he was at school. Whoops. (Speaking of school, she had work that she was definitely supposed to be doing right about now. Double whoops.)

_ anya!!!! yes??  _

_ i am all alone at the tower and SO VERY BORED. pls come hang out with me after school? i’ll watch star wars w/ you :^)  _

_ !!!! omg yes i’ll ask may  _

_ yay ur my favorite  _

Twenty minutes passed until Peter’s response,

_ may said yes! i can't come until like 5:30 tho i have decathlon :/  _

_ it’s fine i have school too anyway. see you then!!  _

_ :-) see you  _

Anya sighed, figuring that now was her only chance to do her online schoolwork for the day so she might as well do it. She opened her (also gifted by Tony) laptop and got to work.

Six classes worth of work, a run on the treadmill, several snacks, and four episodes of  _ Grey’s Anatomy  _ later, it was finally time for Peter to come over. 

Anya had made her way to the main penthouse floor, and she jumped up off the couch when she heard the elevator ‘ding’.

There, in all his glory, was...Peter? Yes, it was Peter. He was wearing Spider-Man’s suit, though...and his face was all busted, and he was definitely leaning on the elevator rail more than he should be. 

What the hell?

“Holy shit, Peter?!” Anya exclaimed, hurrying to the elevator as he stepped out. His eye was bruised and his lip was split, and he was walking like he had more injuries than he was trying to hide. (Which, first of all, Anya was the queen of, so she could see right through him.)

“You’re...you’re not Mister Stark.”

She rolled her eyes, taking hold of his arm and sitting him down on the couch. “Obviously I’m not Tony, he’s not even here right now. You knew that! What happened? And why are you wearing that?”

Peter stared at her blankly, “I may have forgotten you were the only one here, forgive me, I’ve been maimed….and my head hurts,” he mumbled, slightly whiny. “And the reason for me wearing the Spider-Man suit would perhaps be that I am him. Spider-Man, I am...uh...I’m Spider-Man,” he explained, voice slightly trailing off.

“So there was no decathlon?” Anya asked,

“No, there was no decathlon, I’m  _ sorry  _ .”

“It’s fine, Peter. You coulda told me sooner, though, I’m not gonna tell your secrets. I am gonna fix you up, though. I’m sorry, bub, but you look like hell.”

He groaned, “Feel like it too. Th’guy got me good, right on the noggin. I gottem, though, don’t worry.”

It was Anya who groaned this time,  _ “Peter,  _ are you concussed?”

He quickly shook his head, "No! I’m just a wee bit bonked. But it’s alright, I got super spidey healing, I’ll be fine soon. It’s happened a million times, I'd be able to tell if it was a concussion."

She nodded thankfully, “Okay, well I’m gonna doctor you up, and then you’re sleeping, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, wincing as he shifted his leg. “Cn’you fix this one first?” he asked, and Anya agreed.

“Let’s get you down to my floor, I don’t know where the first-aid stuff is up here. Can you walk?”

He could, so the pair went down three floors until they were at the one that Anya had recently started to consider ‘home’. She led him through her bedroom into the attached bathroom, instructing him to sit down on a small stool.

“Stay right here, okay? I’ll get the first-aid stuff.” 

Anya ventured into Bucky and Steve’s room, coming back out with a black t-shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants (both of which would definitely be way too big for Peter, but she tried her best), as well as a basic first aid kit. 

She walked back into her bathroom, glad to see that Peter hadn’t moved. 

She tossed the clothes at him and his arm swung up, catching them before he even saw them coming.

She raised an eyebrow, “Nice catch,”

Peter smiled sheepishly, “It’s, uh, my spidey-sense.”

Anya laughed a little, pulling herself up onto the counter so she and Peter were around the same height. 

“Spidey-sense,” she repeated, opening the kit and getting out everything she needed. She cleaned up his lip, first, and he only winced a little at the sting. 

Then, she dabbed a bit of Mederma into his bruise, patting it gently. 

She put her hands on his shoulders, looking at him and admiring her work.

Anya gestured to the clothes sitting on Peter’s lap, “Put those on and I’ll clean up your leg, too. Anything besides that?”

He shook his head, so she left the bathroom to let him change. Once he was finished, she came back in and almost-  _ almost,  _ laughed at the sight before her. 

He was swimming in gray and black fabric, the sweatpants rolled up several so they wouldn't drag on the floor. Peter noticed her expression and half-grimaced, half-blushed.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, which just made Anya laugh.

“I didn’t say anything,” she joked, and Peter cracked a smile. 

He pulled the leg of the pants up to his knee, revealing the injury. It wasn’t too bad, but Anya could tell it was painful. 

From the front of his shin circling back to halfway across his calf, there was a rather deep gash. 

Anya sat down, getting to work cleaning the injury before rubbing in a bit of Neosporin and applying four butterfly-style bandages to pull the wound in on itself. She finally covered it with a piece of white gauze, taped on with medical tape. Pulling his pant leg back down, she smiled up at him. 

“All done!”

Peter looked down at her, impressed. “How are you so good at that?” he asked, 

“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice,” Anya replied, and Peter’s eyes widened when he realized his mistake. He didn’t know much about Brock, but he knew he was abusive and just generally not a good guy. 

“Anya, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

She waved her hand at him, standing up. “You’re fine, Peter, you didn’t mean it like that, I know. C’mon,” she said, taking his hands in her own and helping him to his feet. 

“You,” she led him out of the bathroom, “need to sleep.” 

She turned down the comforter on her bed, fluffing up the pillows. 

“What’re you doing?” Peter asked,

Anya looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “We’re gonna sleep, genius. You aren’t the only one that needs a nap.”

Peter looked confused, “But… Star Wars?” 

Anya rolled her eyes, plopping into her bed, and motioning for Peter to do the same. “You can have Star Wars when you come over in one piece, spider boy. Now  _ sleep.”  _

Peter got into the bed, relaxing into the soft mattress. “You and my friend MJ would get along...so bossy,” he said, a sleepy smile on his face.

Anya laughed, watching as Peter fell asleep slowly before closing her eyes and falling into a state of rest.

Half a world away, the team filed into the safehouse, everyone worn out. 

The first part of the mission had been difficult, but successful. The group was thankful to see a rather large couch right away, which they all plopped down on, peeling their layers of gear off and cleaning up any injuries. 

“Fri, what’s Anya up to? Has she eaten yet?” Bucky asked his comm, unlacing his black combat boots. 

“Miss Morozov seems to be doing well, she and Mister Parker are currently asleep in her bedroom. She ate an hour and a half ago. All vitals are normal.”

Bucky paused, “...Did you just say she and Peter are  _ sleeping together?”  _

This got the team's attention, every head on the couch snapping to look at Bucky. Steve’s eyes were like saucers.

“Peter? My Peter?!” Tony squawked, abandoning the ice he had just put on his ribs.

Sam barked out a laugh while shaking his head, “Lil’ man is getting it,” he mumbled, and Natasha smacked him on the back of the head. 

“Aren’t they, like, twelve?” Clint asked, mostly to himself, and a few of them nodded in agreement.

“From a moral standpoint, is it any of our business?” Bruce questioned, which led to Steve speaking up.

“Are you crazy? Yes, it’s our business, she’s a baby!”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Don’t go all mama-bear, Cap, I’m sure nothing even happened. Pete’s a- a good kid.”

“Not like she’s in there with a 16-year-old version of Stark,” Nat quipped, and Bucky groaned,

“I don’t even want to think about _ that.”  _

“Just call the kid, what’s the worst that could happen?” Clint suggested, and Steve nodded in agreement.

“Now that’s not a bad idea, we should make sure everyth-”

Sam interrupted him, “Okay Captain celibacy, as the most hip and suave one here,” a few protests arose, “I’d like to say that stalking your child is  _ not  _ the way to go. They’re both old enough to make the right decision, and I think you should respect that.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Wilson,” Nat said, and Sam fist-bumped her from across the couch.

Friday spoke again, this time into everyone’s comms. “It appears I have caused some confusion, my apologies. Miss Morozov and Mister Parker are simply asleep in the same bed, no illicit activities have taken place. I apologize again.”

A collective sigh of relief took over the room, and Bucky groaned. “Is taking care of a kid always going to be this stressful?” he asked out loud, and Clint laughed.

“Never gets easier, bud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 12/21/2020
> 
> hello! 
> 
> hope u all enjoyed this chapter, i was honestly gonna add more angst but i simply cant handle putting these babies thru too much pain.....yet >:)
> 
> comments fuel me and make me so so happy, if you enjoyed or have any ideas for future chaps, please leave one! even just a few words means so much.
> 
> thank you so so much for reading! i love you, stay safe and healthy <3


	5. bucky, i think i’m sick.

Four days after they’d returned from the mission, Bucky had been sleeping peacefully (which was a rarity for the man in itself). Suddenly, he was awoken by Friday’s voice,

“Mister Barnes, Miss Morozov seems to be in distress.”

He groaned, shifting into a seated position and blinking to clear his head.

“What happened, did she have another nightmare?” the man asked, scooching out from underneath Steve’s arms, who was currently wrapped around Bucky like a koala.

“She’s been vomiting for the past ten minutes, sir. She replied negatively when I asked if she wanted to wake you, but my protocols require me to.”

Bucky swore, standing to his feet. Steve stirred, looking up at his boyfriend with confusion evident on his face.

“Buck?” he said questioningly, voice groggy from sleep. Bucky rested a hand on the man’s bicep, rubbing it reassuringly.

“It’s nothin’, Stevie. Fri just said the kid’s sick. You can go back to sleep, I’ll take care of everything.”

Steve started to protest, but his words quickly turned into sleepy mumbles, and then silence. 

Bucky smiled down at him, he loved how Steve looked when he slept. He was just so… peaceful. 

It reminded Bucky of how Steve was before the serum, before he was constantly tasked with the duties of being the Captain America- back when they were just a couple of Brooklyn kids in love.

Bucky snapped out of his thoughts, remembering that there was a sick child in his care who could probably use some help. 

He stepped out of their room, walking down the short hallway to Anya’s. The door was shut, which wasn’t unusual, so Bucky raised his fist and knocked twice.

“You okay? Friday says you’re sick.” He called through the door. He waited a few seconds, but no response came. After knocking again, to still no response, Bucky sighed.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” He announced, opening the door slowly. Anya’s bed was rustled, the comforter half kicked off, but she wasn’t in her bed. 

Bucky took a step in, glancing around for the girl. His eyes locked on the half-open bathroom door. The light inside was on and he could hear the disgruntled noises of someone who sounded very sick coming from inside.

He took a breath, mentally preparing himself to take care of a sick kid.  _ Just pretend it’s Stevie back in the day, _ Bucky told himself.  _ You know what to do. _

Crossing the room in a mere few steps, Bucky paused once he reached the door. The gagging sounds had, thankfully, ceased for a moment. He knocked gently on the doorframe,

“Anya? You doing okay?”

The girl grumbled, “Bucky, I think I’m sick.”

He let out a quiet laugh at her obvious words before opening the door onto a truly pitiful sight. Anya was sitting on the ground in front of the toilet, half slumped over the bowl. Her hair was messily pulled back in a ponytail, stray pieces stuck to her forehead and falling out the sides. Her eyes were watery with smudged mascara and she looked….well, she looked pretty damn sick.

Bucky sat down next to her, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear before placing the back of his hand on her forehead. He left it there for a moment before pulling away, giving her a look of remorse.

“Well, you definitely have a fever.” He announced, and Anya whined, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I hate being sick,” she said with a pout. Bucky nodded, stroking her hair.

“I’m right there with’ya, doll. It’s pretty shitty, I know, but you’ll be alright.”

Anya gagged again before leaning over and retching into the toilet. Bucky instinctively placed his hand between her shoulder blades, rubbing tiny circles and soothing the girl. 

After a couple of minutes, she lifted her head back up, looking more miserable than ever. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped her face with it before tossing it into the trashcan.

“Bucky, can you please just slam my head into a wall or something and put me out of my misery?” Anya groaned, looking at the man with a serious expression. 

Bucky made a face of disapproval, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“Don’t joke about that,” he admonished lightly.

“Sorry,” Anya replied, not sounding very sorry, before continuing, “can you drug me up real good, then? Peter said he has to take these crazy strong painkillers when he’s hurt because of his metabolism. You should just pop me a few of those and it’ll be lights out until my fever’s gone.” 

Anya bargained, a glint in her eyes. Bucky shook his head, even though he was amused at her antics.

“Steve and I take those too, and it’s essentially a glorified horse tranquilizer. It wouldn’t do anything for your fever, anyway.”

The teenager tilted her head, “So… none for me?”

“None for you,” Bucky confirmed. A thought went through his head at Anya’s mention of Peter- he didn’t want to push, but ever since Friday’s, um, miscommunication during the mission, he did have a question for the girl.

“You and the Parker kid been talking a lot?” he asked, a hand carding through her hair.

Anya shrugged, “Kind of a lot, I guess. He’s busy a lot, which sucks since he's basically my only friend."

Bucky put a hand on his chest, faking shock, “Are you saying I’m not your friend?”

This made Anya laugh, “You’re my friend! I’m talking about friends my age, though, and aren’t you like, a hundred?”

“Give or take, so have a little respect for your elders,” Bucky replied good-naturedly. “Are you feeling any better? Think you’re gonna yak again or can you go back to bed?”

Anya thought it over for a moment, “I...I think I’m good? I doubt there’s anything left in my stomach at this point."

Bucky nodded, “Why don’t we take that trashcan over, just in case.”

With Bucky’s help, Anya made her way back to bed, a trashcan now stationed right next to it. 

Bucky smoothed out the bedding on top of the girl, leaving the comforter off of her due to her fever, but pulling the sheets up to her shoulders and lightly tucking her in.

“Need anything else?” Bucky asked, and Anya shook her head. “Let Friday know if you do, okay?”

Anya nodded, and Bucky started to walk away after a last ‘good-night’.

“I, uh, Bucky?” Anya said, her voice nearly a whisper. He turned around, tilting his head in question.

“Could you, maybe...you don’t have to, just...could you... stay?”

Bucky’s face softened, and he instantly felt guilty for not offering to stay. Although he’d never talked to the girl about it, he’d pretty much figured out that she nearly never had nightmares if someone else was with her. Alone, on the other hand, it was a regular occurrence.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied easily, walking back over to the edge of her bed after lifting up a cozy chair that was nestled in the corner of the room. He sat the chair down, settling down into it. Anya visibly relaxed, laying on her side so the two were facing each other.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I know it’s stupid of me, it just helps.”

“Don’t call yourself stupid,” Bucky said, although it was more of a reminder than a scold.

Anya didn’t talk much about her therapy sessions to Bucky or Steve, but from the vague things she'd mentioned, the long road was off to a rather positive start. 

Anya did tend to talk down on herself quite a bit, and Bucky wasn’t sure if she even realized she was doing it half the time, or if Brock had just engrained it into her subconscious that much.

(Although he doubted Brock would dare to speak to Anya again after Nat’s lovely visit to him. Either way, the man was destined for prison and was currently awaiting sentencing.

Bucky tried not to think about the prospect of Anya being made to testify, although it had been looming over him for the past week. 

The teenager was unaware of anything, though, having only been told that ‘it was handled’ and not much else.)

“Sorry,” Anya said. Bucky gave her a small smile and a nod that she returned, but it didn’t completely meet her eyes.

“I’m working on it, y’know.” She said after a few moments of quiet. Bucky tilted his head in question. “Being nicer to myself.” Anya clarified.

“I’m glad,” Bucky said, and he really was. Anya was such a good person, even if he hadn’t known her long, he tended to be right about these things. 

The girl had been through so much in such a short life, he wanted nothing more than her happiness.

Bucky rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Try to sleep, now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Anya closed her eyes and Bucky watched as, slowly but surely, her breathing evened out and she eventually fell asleep. The man leaned back, knowing that technically, he could leave now and Anya’d be none the wiser. 

For some reason, though, he was drawn to the idea of staying.

Fate had handed him the best kid he’d ever met, and now it was his job to protect her. And damn it, he didn’t care if he was fighting a fever, he’d protect his kid no matter what. 

_ The kid, _ he corrected himself.  _ Not my kid, the kid. _

Whatever Anya was to him, he knew one thing- he wasn’t going anywhere. He laid his head back, shifting until he found a semi-comfortable position. It took a few minutes, but finally, he drifted off to sleep.

Bucky awoke with a start, the feeling of being watched overtaking him. He looked around, ready for a fight before he heard a familiar throat being cleared behind him. 

He looked over to see Steve standing in the doorway, a smile on his face as he looked at the duo.

“What?” Bucky asked, and Steve held his hands up.

“Nothing, nothing. Just...this looks good on you, Buck.” He said honestly.

Bucky squinted at him, confused. “What does?”

“This,” Steve replied, gesturing down to where Anya was fast asleep. “Anya, taking care of her, all of it. The whole ‘dad’ thing, you’re doing a good job.”

Bucky opened his mouth but wasn’t sure what to say. “I...I’m not her dad, Steve, neither of us are.”

Steve shrugged, “You’re her guardian,”

“Well yes, I’m her guardian, because Pepper nearly lost her shit when she found out Anya was technically a runaway,” Bucky explained, but the expression on Steve’s face didn’t falter.

“So what, you’re tellin’ me you don’t care about her? You wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for Pepper?”

Bucky scoffed, quickly shaking his head. “Don’t be an asshole, Stevie. Y’know I’d do anything for the kid. She’s good, Steve. She deserves more than what life threw her way.”

“I know, Buck, I agree with you. Listen, all I’m saying is, you two are good for each other. I’m proud’a you.”

Bucky glanced at the girl, sleeping so serenely. She looked young normally, but looking at her now, after Bucky’d just spent the better part of the night taking care of her- she’d never looked younger.

He and Steve had talked about kids, but they never really saw it in their future. Their line of work was dangerous and left little room for wandering toddlers. 

Anya, though, Anya was different. She was already raised, for one thing, and her parents had done a pretty wonderful job with that aspect.

More than that, she just fit. Never in the almost-month, they’d known each other had Bucky once regretted taking the girl in.

It just felt right, it felt like Anya was meant to be with them all along. For the first time in a long time, fate had given him something good instead of taking it away.

Bucky smiled to himself at the thought. He was content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 12/21/2020
> 
> what is it with me and ending scenes with characters falling asleep/waking up? the world may never know!
> 
> sorry for this one being on the short side, it felt like the right place to end it. i love writing fluff and this was entirely self indulgent, if i’m being honest. (so is this entire fic, though.)
> 
> if you liked it, hated it, have any thoughts, questions, or ideas: i’d love to hear from you! i read every comment and they make me so very happy, nothing fuels my writing more.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! i love and appreciate you all. i hope you’re staying safe + healthy + happy!


	6. the trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated 12/21/2020
> 
> hello! before u read here are a few things:
> 
> 1\. TW for past verbal abuse and talk of the past r*pe of a minor. Nothing is shown nor is it mentioned in detail. Also brief teen drinking but it's mentioned for, like, two paragraphs.
> 
> 2\. I am not a lawyer, I am a sixteen-year-old girl with Google as my best friend. I did my best with the legal talk, please tell me if you see any glaring errors.
> 
> 3\. A majority of this chapter (as well as the whole fic) is narrated with Anya's internal dialogue. Things she thinks to be true are stated as the truth, even if they aren't accurate. This especially goes for self-degrading thoughts. I certainly don't think those things about her, jsyk.
> 
> 4\. The words whore and slut are used in a degrading way. I do not agree with this standpoint and I'm vehemently against slut-shaming of any form. 
> 
> 5\. I'm sorry if this chapter seems fast-paced. I was really struggling to write it and I just wanted to get the trial over and done with. 
> 
> ok that's all i hope you enjoy!

“Anya,” Bucky said, stepping out of the elevator. 

The girl in question looked up at him from where she was perched on the couch with her oatmeal and laptop. Luckily, the majority of her illness seemed to have gone away in the past two days, but she was still trying to play it safe. Those forty-eight hours of vomiting had been...less than ideal. Bucky had been there for nearly every second of it, much to Anya’s gratitude.

_ “Don’t you have better things to be doing?” Anya asked from her spot on the bathroom’s tile floor. The pair were facing each other, each sitting with their backs leaned on opposite walls.  _

_ “Like, I dunno, lifting weights or getting your ass kicked by Sam at Mario Kart?”  _

_ Bucky’s face filled with mock-offense as he smacked his hand against his chest. “Excuse me, I do more than that, punk." _

_ “Right sorry, you get your ass kicked by Natasha, too. How could I forget?” Anya said, a playful smirk on her tired face. Being sick sucked, but Bucky and Steve had made it bearable. _

_ “I’ll have you know I’ve kicked every ass in this tower at Mario Kart at some point or another, yours included!”  _

_ “Yeah, like twice!” Anya said with a scoff.  _

_ “Anyways,” Bucky said, drawing out the word pointedly, “I may or may not be a little busy doing other things. I used to save the world, ya know.”  _

_ Anya scrunched her face in confusion, “Used to? What happened, you were on a mission like a week ago.”  _

_ “Well, I now happen to serve as a full-time human ponytail for your sorry ass while you blow chunks, your highness,” Bucky said good-naturedly. Anya laughed slightly despite herself before her face went slightly serious.  _

_ “You don’t have to help me, Bucky. I can hold my hair back if you gotta do Avenger’s shit. You see, there’s this thing called a hair-tie-”  _

_ “Shut up, you know I’m gonna help you,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “You gotta try harder than that to get rid of me, doll.  _

_ Because it was so obvious that an actual Avenger would drop everything to help Anya while she was sick. Not like that’s completely insane for her to think about, or anything. Wow.  _

_ Anya gave him a slight smile, starting to respond before another wave of nausea hit her. He was by her side in an instant, flesh hand holding up her hair while the metal one ran small circles in the middle of her back, comforting the teenager.  _

So yeah, the past few days hadn’t been the greatest. Anya drew her attention up from the schoolwork on her laptop, meeting eyes with Bucky and, to her surprise, Pepper. 

Anya scooted up, setting her items on the arm of the couch. Her eyes went from Bucky to Pepper, back to Bucky. 

She could tell they were amping up to say something, which made her nervous.

Pepper broke the silence. “So,” she paused, thinking over how she was planning on wording this. “It looks like you’re going to have to go to the trial and testify against Brock.”

Oh. Oh no. “I thought something said since I’m a minor I don’t have to?” Anya said, voice veering towards panic. She can’t testify.  _ They can’t know,  _ a voice in her head reminded her. They’ll all hate her once they find out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that only applies for minors under thirteen, it seems like.” 

Anya took a shaky breath, holding deathly still as she felt her world collapse around her. 

The people she now considered family had been so understanding when it came to Anya’s past- never pushing her to talk about it, but always being there if she did. The one thing Anya never talked about with anyone but her therapist, though, were the  _ details.  _

The details of how she was used and dehumanized and forced to do things that made her sick just thinking about them. 

The details of what he said to her, what he made her say to him. 

How he would whisper the word, sometimes. 

On other occasions, he would scream it.  __

_ Whore. Whore. Dirty fuckin’ slut. You take it so good, don’t you baby? You love it, tell me you love it.  _

The details of how Anya stayed. How she was too afraid, too weak, to face homelessness again. The details of how she let it happen to her. Her fault, her fault, dirty fucking whore. 

Anya shook out of her thoughts, realizing now that her breaths had become quick and ragged. The adults were trying to calm her down to no avail. She stood, walking in brisk steps to her door, closing it with too much force. 

She didn’t cry. She wanted to, god she wanted to. But she couldn’t. She was frozen, paralyzed. Her breaths quickened as she sat down, leaning against the base of her bed. Whore, whore, whore. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t face Brock. She couldn’t face any of them, not when they’d look at her feel nothing but disgust. 

She heard a gentle knock on the door. “мед, can you let me in?” Bucky called softly.

_ Bucky and Natasha had been delighted when they realized Anya was half Russian.  _

_ “We’re the strongest,” Nat had said, bumping shoulders with the girl.  _

_ The trio had spent many afternoons practicing the language, entirely for Anya’s benefit, of course, even though the adults would never admit it. They were both fluent, while Anya scraped by on memories of her father speaking the language to her.  _

_ She’d improved greatly since they first started, though, and she was glad to be embracing something that was attached to memories of her dad.  _

_ She hoped he was proud, wherever he was.  _

_ If she couldn’t have her father, Anya was glad she had Bucky. She’d realized quickly after meeting the man that she saw him as a father figure, something she never thought she’d have again.  _

_ Of course, she didn’t admit this to the man, although it was obvious.  _

_ Bucky always knew how to calm her down. He was always there when she was in a bad mood with a smile and a sarcastic, but well-meaning comment. He always got onto her about skipping out on her schoolwork, which was annoying at the moment, but Anya was ultimately grateful to have some structure in her life.  _

_ They played Mario Kart and they watched movies. On more than one occasion, she’d fallen asleep on top of the man, which lead to lots of coos and playful comments from the team.  _

_ She wondered why her heart was pounding, why she was all alone on the edge of her bed. Where was Bucky? _

To her luck, the man was currently knocking on her door, sounding more concerned and panicky by the second. 

Anya quickly snapped up, her mind zeroing in on  _ Bucky, comfort, comfort, Bucky.  _

She swung the door open, startling the man, and threw herself into his arms. 

She felt his own wrap around her, engulfing her body. 

The comfort was good, but Anya was still filled with an underlying panic. 

Bucky couldn’t make this go away, no matter how much she needed him to. Once he knew, once he heard Anya recount every horrid disgusting minute of her abuse in court, he’d hate her. 

The girl squeezed tighter at this thought, a small sob choking in her throat. 

She couldn’t handle losing another father figure.

Bucky was concerned as he hugged Anya back. He leaned away after a moment, brushing the tears from under Anya’s eyes away with his thumb.

“I gotcha, детка, you’re alright. I know you’re scared, but listen, the defense can’t hassle you, you just gotta tell em’ what happened and he’ll be locked up quicker than all hell. You got all’a us on your side, we won’t let anything bad happen.”

Anya could see in his eyes that he meant every word he said. 

Unfortunately, he’s not accounting for the fact that he won’t want to be anywhere near Anya after the trial. 

They’d all hate her, and they’d all leave.

_ The bottle narrowly missed Anya’s head. Instead, it smashed against the wall to her left. She flinched, shrinking in on herself.  _

_ “You think you deserve anything, bitch? Do you think anyone’ll want you?! You’re a fucking whore, Anya Morozov. I do everything for you, I give you a fuckin’ roof to live under. What, d'ya wanna be homeless again? Huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being the alleyway fuckin’ gloryhole?”  _

_ Anya whimpered, a “Brock, stop” leaving her mouth before she could stop it.  _

_ She cried out when he threw a second bottle, one that didn’t miss. Blood dripped down her temple, shattered glass hitting the floor. He was still screaming, but the words weren’t registering. It was just pain and pain and nothing else.  _

Maybe he was right. If she was worth something, wouldn’t someone love her by now?

“Anya?” 

Oh, right.

Anya glanced back up at Bucky, his hand gently shaking her shoulder. She shook her head, clearing her mind. 

“Sorry, um… yeah, you’re right. It’ll be fine.” Anya said, but she was clearly only saying the words for Bucky’s benefit, not believing them at all. 

Pepper had left at some point during Anya’s freak-out (which her therapist would’ve called a panic attack, but that made it a big deal, and it wasn’t a big deal. At all. Whatsoever.)

Bucky saw through her facade easily. “Anya, it’s okay if you’re not okay with all this. It’s okay if you don’t believe me, I know you’re scared, and you can talk to me about it.”

Anya shook her head. She couldn’t talk to him about it, she just couldn’t. He wouldn’t understand, hell, he’d probably side with Brock. 

Well, no. He wouldn’t do that. Anya knew he was worlds above that. 

But still, forgive her for not wanting her father figure to hear the details of her assaults. He’d probably think she was weak. Between all the Avengers, they had boatloads of trauma. They’d been tortured, mind-controlled, and nearly killed at every turn. Why would they deal with petty issues like Anya being stupid and getting herself into that situation in the first place?

They wouldn’t, is what they’d do. They’d call her pathetic, they’d laugh at her, they’d leave her. 

She didn’t want to be alone again.

—————

The trial was in seven days and Anya was terrified. 

She still hadn’t opened up to Bucky, or anyone, for that matter, on why she was so distraught. She was so focused on how the team's perspective of her would change that she had barely registered that Brock would be there. She’d have to see him again. Fuck. 

She’d spent several days over the past few weeks talking with Bucky, Pepper, and her lawyer (who was a close friend of Pepper’s), Daya. Anya liked Daya. She wore colorful pantsuits and had braided hair and a bright smile. She talked Anya through everything, gave her an idea of the questions they’d ask her and what to expect.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Tony had told Anya in passing one day. “She’s all bubbly now, but the woman’s a beast in court. She’s been known to make grown men cry on several occasions.”

So there was that. 

Despite having the most badass lawyer of all time, Anya was still nervous. More than nervous, to be honest. The trial was in seven days and then the team would hate her. That’s what she’d convinced herself was true, anyway, and she fully believed it.

—————

The trial was in five days and Anya was still terrified. She’d been panic-y and on edge the whole day and had snapped at Bucky (...and Steve...and Peter…) more times than she would care to admit.

Of course, they understood completely. Those fuckers. They were so caring, so understanding, always trying to help. This would’ve been great, except for the fact that it would all be gone in five measly days.

She was trying to enjoy it while it lasted.

————

Four days out, Anya found herself on the roof of the tower in the middle of the night. 

Weird, kinda gross artisanal beer that she’d swiped from Steve and Bucky’s fridge in hand (because Friday was an absolute snitch about the main floors liquor cabinet, which Anya and Peter had discovered on an...unfortunate occasion a while back. Never again.)

She looked out onto the skyscraper clad horizon, bringing the bottle to her mouth. 

_ (and he swung the bottle again, and again, and it smashed against her in tiny shards, embedding into her blood-covered skin and if there was a hell, this could’ve been it.)  _

She shuddered at the thought. She took another sip. 

There were footsteps behind her. Anya didn’t bother looking back. A figure sat down next to her. Bucky. 

He sighed when he saw the bottle in her hand, gently prying her fingers off of it and setting it down past her reach. “That’s gonna be a no.”

When Anya didn’t say anything, Bucky spoke again. “I wish you’d talk to me, kid.”

“I do talk to you,” Anya said, and they both knew that’s not what Bucky meant.

“Not about this,” he said, “not about how you feel, and not about why you’re tryin’ to get drunk to forget it.”

“That’s not what I’m-”

“Yes, it is, мед. I was in the army, I know drinking-to-forget when I see it. I just wish you’d talk to me, or  _ someone.  _ I know you deflect every time the trial gets brought up. We all just want to help you, do you not see that?” Bucky asked, sounding slightly hurt.

“I’m not worried about the damn trial, Bucky!” 

Anya exclaimed, looking the man in the eye for the first time since he’d come onto the roof. “I’m worried about the inevitable happening after the trial."

He looked confused. “I’m lost, doll, you gotta fill me in.”

Anya averted her gaze, looking down at her lap. 

“You’re all gonna hate me.” She said, her voice barely a whisper. 

Bucky looked at her, incredulous. “What- why the hell would we hate you?”

Anya shook her head, swallowing down a sob. 

“You’re gonna think I’m a stupid whore. I should’ve  _ left,  _ Bucky! I stayed there and let him do all this shit to me because I was too much of a coward to be homeless! And he stripped me of all my fuckin’ value and you’ll all finally see that. And I’m not ready for that, I’m not. I can’t lose my second chance at a family, Bucky, and that’s what gonna happen.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while, and Anya held her breath. 

“Is that what you think, детка?”

Anya nodded. Then, Bucky’s arms were wrapped around her. She let him pull her into his chest, so her head was tucked right under his chin.

“God, Anya, I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry.”

What?

“W-why are you sorry?” Anya asked

“I would never,  _ ever  _ do that to you. And I’m real fuckin’ sorry I ever made you think I would.” 

Anya was quick to reply, “It’s not you, it’s just...Brock would always tell me these things. How I’m worthless, how I’m a slut...how nobody’s gonna love me. And yeah, I’m tryin’ not to think badly of myself, but  _ god,  _ he told me every damn day Bucky. He told me that if anyone ever found out what happened, they’d turn and haul ass the other way.”

Bucky twisted a finger through a lock of her hair. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. No matter what you say to me, no matter what you think was your fault, I’m always gonna be here. I hate to say it, but you’re sorta stuck with me, дитя.”

Anya looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

————

The trial was in two days and Anya was feeling...better. Like maybe this was something she could actually get through. 

She and Bucky had talked. And talked. And talked some more. She’d told him all the things she’d kept locked up, all the things she’d been terrified of anyone knowing, explicit details redacted.

And Bucky stayed. And listened. And never once called her weak, or a whore, or anything else from the laundry list of names stacked up in Anya’s head.

It was good. It was hard and she cried and Bucky cried and hugged her and kissed her head and it was hard. 

Very, very hard. 

And it was good.

—————

The trial was in two hours and Anya had just finished wiping the vomit out of the corners of her mouth. It wasn't due to being sick, this time. Nope, this was pure anxiety.

One thought came barreling in after another and she was lurching over the toilet. 

It was like every ounce of confidence from the past week had been wiped away. 

She was more than terrified, she was an absolute wreck.

————

One pep-talk from Bucky, and another pep-talk from Daya later, and Anya was ready to kick ass. 

———

And just as quickly as it started, the trial was over. 

It was filled with gavel banging and objections and Anya putting on the bravest face she could muster. 

It was looking the man who broke her apart in the eyes and making sure he knew that she was slowly stitching herself back together. That he was unsuccessful in his feats. 

The verdict was read out. Guilty. Seventeen years. No chance of parole. Anya had gasped when she heard the number. 

It was so long, so real, and so fucking deserved. 

————

Brock’s head slammed again into the cement wall. And again.

“Little  _ bitch _ ,” the inmate had spat at him, throwing him to the ground one final time.

“You’re gonna find out real quick how we deal with  _ bitches  _ like you in here.”

Seventeen years.

—————

Anya sat between Steve and Bucky on the couch. 

A movie was playing that she paid no attention to. She leaned her head on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Brock was gone. He was gone and he wasn’t coming back. 

Anya, on the other hand, was with her family. 

They were here, and they weren’t going anywhere.

She was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated 12/21/2020
> 
> so. that was a lot. i know. it was a lot for me, too.
> 
> justice hath been served, though! so yay!
> 
> also- I'm adjusting the # of chapters from 10 to 8. This chapter accomplished a lot more than I was expecting so, tentatively, there will only be two more. Unless anyone has anything specific they want to see? Let me know!
> 
> i really hope you enjoyed! kudos and comments make me the happiest girl in the world :^)
> 
> i love you! stay safe and healthy!


	7. to wrap it all up

Life with the Avengers in the two months since the trial had become somewhat...normal.

Anya spent her days doing online classes, going to therapy, working out (Natasha had started giving her self-defense lessons, which Anya enjoyed, but her poor, sore body did not.)

She’d also spent more and more time with Peter after figuring his identity out. She was ninety-nine percent sure everyone else knew, as well, and just kept it hidden for Peter’s sake.

Her relationship with Bucky and Steve had its hiccups, but it had gradually grown stronger and stronger. The trial had left Anya emotionally drained, and they’d been a wonderful support system. 

It was all shockingly domestic. Domestic in a way that reminded Anya of her parents. Domestic in a way that she’d dreamed of and prayed for while under Brock’s abuse.

  
A ding sounded from Anya’s phone, breaking her away from her thoughts.

_(not) spider-man_

_come 2 shared floor? i’m here for the wknd but pepper forced mr stark out of the lab and into a meeting :(_

Anya could practically hear Peter’s pout through the text. S.I meetings were the bane of Tony’s, and subsequently, Peter’s existence. Anything that forced them away from Science! was A Very Bad Thing.

(God bless Pepper, that woman had the patience of a saint.)

Anya quickly typed out a response to Peter,

_poor you </3 yes im coming down right now _

before pulling herself out of bed and exiting her room.

Steve and Bucky were sitting in the living room, a book set on Bucky’s lap as he read, and Steve’s sketchbook in hand. The soft charcoal dancing across the paper was the only noise in the room, other than the slight crackling of rain against one of the large windows.

“Hey, I’m going to hang out with Peter,” Anya said, walking to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

Steve glanced up at her with a small nod, “Have fun, don’t set anything on fire,”

_A dumb Science! experiment with Peter goes wrong one time…_

Bucky laughed to himself, (probably remembering the look on Tony’s face when they’d found the teens surrounded by a cloud of smoke and three broken toasters), “Just remember to be back up here by seven or so, we’re makin’ dinner.”

Already halfway in the elevator, Anya gave him a nod of affirmation. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Bucky waited for a beat after the elevator doors closed to turn to his love, worry etched in his face.

“Y’think she’ll say yes?”

Steve wrapped his arm around the other man, “Even if she doesn’t, Buck, nothing’s gonna change.”

Bucky nodded, before leaning his head into Steve’s shoulder. After a beat of silence, he spoke, voice much smaller than you’d expect from such an intimidating man. “I really hope she says yes, Stevie,”

“Yeah, I hope she does, too.” Steve agreed, letting out a deep breath as he looked up at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, on the common floor, Anya was updating Peter on the latest _Gilmore Girls_ drama.

“He just _left,_ Peter, can you believe it?? I was really starting to root for Jess, too.”

Peter nodded along, amused by Anya’s indignation at this fictional character (who, to be fair, sounded like an asshole.)

Anya started to talk again, before closing her mouth, re-thinking her next words. “Why do you even listen to my rambles when you could just watch the show? I’m pretty sure Tony has, like, every streaming service to ever be invented.”

Peter shrugged, “I dunno, I like hearing you talk about it.”

Anya found an opening for asking the question she'd had on her mind for a while, now.

“You like hearing me talk about it, or you like _me?”_

Peter’s face flushed as he choked on his water. “I don’t, I mean, obviously I like you, and I might, well I just...if _you_ don’t, and I don’t wanna, like, pressure you, or anything, but I guess it’s-”

Anya almost felt bad.

What? She wasn’t stupid. She’d spent nearly all of her time over the last few months either texting Peter or hanging out with him. She saw the way he looked at her, especially when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was a valid question!

(It didn’t matter that her face always warmed when Peter made her laugh, or how sometimes they’d fall asleep watching Star Wars and wake up intertwined, always laughing it off. It didn’t matter that Anya would sometimes control her breathing, pretending to stay asleep, just so he would hold her for a while longer. 

It didn’t matter that Peter had been there for her on her worst days when she would sit on the roof and sob in the middle of the night. 

He once found her there, and with a blanket in one arm and hot chocolate in the other, he let her cry on him. She’d told him nearly everything, from her parents, to how she’d met Brock, to how she couldn’t leave. She told him stories of broken bones and broken dreams of something better. 

He hadn’t been disgusted or called her weak, or any of the other horrible things she’d expected. He’d given her a hug, shaky and tearful, and he’d promised her that she was safe now.

Peter talked, too, about everything he’d been through. His parents, his uncle, getting bitten by that spider. Toomes, the building, the crushing weight.

They’d experienced horrors that children never should.

Somehow, they’d made it out. Anya was starting to realize something, though. This, right here, was the hardest part. 

It was the coping, the coming-to-terms, the learning to live with it all.

The sun rose, a pinkish-gold glimmer on their skin, and Anya felt born-again. Talking to her therapist, or even her pseudo-fathers had never made her feel so... _seen._

They’d be alright.)

“Peter! Peter, hey, don’t freak out. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it so abruptly, I just... I think I may like you. Like, _like,_ like.”

_Excellent use of the English language, Anya,_ she thought to herself.

Peter let out a visible breath. “Yeah. I, uh, I do.”

A smile grew across Anya’s face, and she leaned in, gently, looking down at Peter’s lips and then back up at him.

It was sweet and chaste, and a bit uncoordinated. It was cotton candy and holding hands and movie marathons. It was just like Peter; it was all the things she’d spent so long waiting for.

He broke the kiss first, a small laugh coming out. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day you came here.”

Anya pressed her head into his chest, wrapping her arms around his back. She could feel his warmth and hear the gentle thumps of his heart beating.

The pair found themselves on the couch, Gilmore Girls playing. Peter came to the conclusion that Jess was exactly as much of an ass as he’d predicted, even though Anya kept insisting that he was ‘just misunderstood.’

Things were good.

Hours passed like moments, and before she knew it, Friday was reminding Anya that she had dinner with Bucky and Steve. Groaning as she stretched, Anya placed a second short kiss on Peter’s lips, ecstatic that she could finally do such a thing.

“You gonna be here tomorrow?” she asked as she stood from the couch. Peter nodded, “All weekend.”

They made plans to meet for breakfast the next morning, and Anya found herself back on her floor quickly. The doors opened to reveal Bucky and Steve in the kitchen, singing along (badly) to one of the 70’s bands Bucky had a newfound love for.

Anya snorted out a laugh at the ridiculous scene before her. “It’s like Stevie Nicks is right in front of me,” she said, snatching a piece of garlic bread from the baking sheet it was laying on.

Steve gave her a humorously exasperated look, “Dinner’s _almost_ ready, y’know,”

Anya just shrugged, “It smelled good,” she said, taking a large bite to prove her point.

Since she wasn’t a total heathen, she held off on snatching any more food, instead opting to set the table and help Bucky finish making the pasta sauce.

Soon enough, the trio were seated with a delicious meal before them. Anya couldn’t help but notice the way the two men kept giving each other _looks_.

She swallowed a bite, giving the pair a look of her own. “You’re being weird,” she accused, pointing her fork at them.

Bucky let out a breath, “Yeah, should’ve counted on you being as intuitive as you are.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “We have something we want to ask you, Anya. Just know, though, that no matter what you say, nothing’s gonna change, alright? I hate to break it to you, but you’re sorta stuck with us.”

Anya laughed at that, although her nerves were dancing with anxiety. “We have to talk” style conversations were usually 1. serious, and 2. not pleasant.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. What do you have to ask me?” 

Bucky noticed Anya’s nails digging into the palm of her hand, clenched tight, and he softly took hold of it, prying it open. 

“We want to ask if you’d be okay with us adopting you.”

Anya probably, no, _definitely_ heard that wrong. There was no way...they wouldn’t actually want her, would they?

“You..huh?” was all she managed to get out.

Steve jumped in, “You don’t have to say yes, it’s completely up to you. I know this is sort of out-of-the-blue, but Pepper started asking about it a few weeks back and we wanted to know how you’d feel about it.”

“About...you...adopting...me?”

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, мед, or if it’s just not what you want,” Bucky said, and Anya could see the disappointment in the man's eyes, even though he was trying his best to keep a blank expression.

“No, no, wait, I want you to!” Anya explained, realizing that they’d taken her shocked silence as a rejection.

Both of their faces lit up, “Really?” 

Anya nodded, her eyes tearing up. “Yes, _yes,_ oh my God, of course!”

Bucky stood, grabbing the girl into a hug. He held her tightly, resting his chin on her head. 

This kid, this good, sweet, perfect kid, who’d gone through so much. When Bucky’d found her getting beat up that day, so many months ago, he never could’ve expected this. Now, he couldn’t imagine things any other way.

She’d trusted them enough to let them help her, and that meant everything.

The three of them had become a little family, and now, she would really be _their kid._ Bucky had realized long ago that the three of them had suffered enough for many lifetimes. They deserved a life of soft domesticity, of warm hugs and pillow fights and no more pain; and now, they finally had it.

Things were very good.

_In a beautiful place, far from here, but closer than you’d expect, Amelia and Viktor Morozov rested peacefully, knowing that their baby was going to be just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 12/21/2020
> 
> hi. yeah, uh, it's been seven months. sorry about that.
> 
> to make a long story short, life is hard, and i lost all inspo for this story, and writing in general, for a while.
> 
> but then, alas! inspiration strikes!
> 
> it felt wrong, though, to start on a new fic without finishing this. I've grown a lot as both a person and author since i began this fic, but i figured it at least deserved a happy ending.
> 
> if you're reading this- oh my god i am so sorry this took so long, but THANK YOU!!!
> 
> i love u all


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